A Love Story in Three Acts
by sienna27
Summary: TV Show Episode Title Challenge - Prompt Set #5 - Title Challenge: The Always Goodbye - Emily is married and Hotch can't move on. Different style, first person POVs - 2009 CM Fan Fiction Awards; 1st Place, Best Drama
1. My Bleeding Heart

**Author's Note**: YAY! It worked! Okay, if you're on my alerts, I do apologize for the multiple emails. The site is again acting fluky (so many odd problems lately), and there are apparently these windows right now where new stories show up as dead links. But other people, I could see across all fandoms, were posting just fine so I figured if I reposted at some point it would work. For me, the third time was the charm in getting a good posting window. Kind of like landing the space shuttle :)

Okay, this is another different one style wise. Again, please just go with it. This whole story is told as a narrative first person POV and each chapter will be a companion for the one before it, but also pull the story a little further each time. In some ways it's like the mirror stories of "A Tether" and "A Drowning Man" but those covered like twenty minutes of time and were my usual third person. This one covers three and a half years, and is again, first person shooter, so it definitely will feel different.

Regardless of the tone in this chapter, I promise things will end well.

* * *

**Prompt Set #5**

Show: China Beach

Title Challenge: The Always Goodbye

* * *

_**Hotch POV**_

**My Bleeding Heart**

She was supposed to be mine . . . but I lost her.

Now every couple months I see her around the bureau. We say hi and I breathe in her perfume as she gives me a hug hello. I always make sure not to hold on too long or too tight. Then I show her pictures of Jack, and she shows me pictures of her little girl . . . Lucy.

And I smile as I look at the shiny brown hair and the big brown eyes, and I say that she's beautiful. And then I think to myself, 'just like her mother.'

But I don't say that. It would be wrong. It's too late for such words.

Because she's happy now.

Emily got married three years ago. I went to her wedding only because I knew she would have been hurt if I didn't. We shared one dance. And for just a moment I held her a little bit closer than I should have, and I pretended that she was mine.

That the white dress was for me.

But then her new husband came up and tapped me on the shoulder . . . and the bubble burst.

I kissed her on the cheek and I gave him her hand . . . and I died a little inside. She looked so happy as he twirled her away that I had to leave. All the while ignoring the looks of sympathy from Dave and Morgan as I got my coat.

They knew my secret, but they had kept it from her because I asked them to.

For awhile things went on almost as they had before. She was still there, she was still with me, right by my side, and I was thinking maybe I could just pretend that things were okay.

I knew I was in denial. But denial seemed to be my least painful option for existence until I could get over her.

Then the bubble burst again.

Six months after the day we danced, she got pregnant and transferred out. She cried when she came in to give me her notice.

I almost did too.

Instead I gave her a hug, and I held her too close, and I told her I understood and I wished her all the best.

But as I said the words I died just a little bit more. Because now she was leaving me. Denial was no longer an option. And it wasn't just a husband that stood between us, it was now a family.

And then two weeks later . . . she was gone.

I sent her a card and pink roses when her baby was born. She wrote me back a beautiful note. I still have it. She signed it "love, Emily."

If only.

Her husband is a nice guy. He's good to her, he's a good father, and he makes her happy.

And I hate him.

That bastard took her away from me. But for her sake, I have to smile and shake his hand when I see him at agency functions.

I think he knows my secret though.

Sometimes he'll give me a look from across the room, or I'll walk up and he'll tighten his grasp around her waist. And from his fear I feel a bitter amusement rise up.

What does he think I'm going to do? Tell her?

To what end?

She wasn't going to leave him to come back to me. Besides, if she loved me, then she wouldn't have married him.

Though, sometimes, in those quick meetings in the hall, I think I see something flash in her eyes. Something that makes me believe that things would have been different if I'd told her how I felt.

But it's too late now. She has a life.

Telling her would simply destroy the last remnants of my relationship with her . . . our friendship.

That's all I have left.

Because I waited too long. Since I'd met her, all of her boyfriends had always been losers. They came and they went. And in between I'd think, 'I should tell her now.' But I didn't, at first because my divorce was still so new. And then because I was afraid maybe she didn't feel the same way about me. I thought I'd have more time to spend with her, more time to be sure before I told her.

It didn't occur to me that she'd meet a nice guy. That I'd lose my window.

I was a fool.

And now my heart breaks again every time she walks away . . . because she was the one. The one that made me smile, the one that made me laugh. The one that brought me joy.

Now she's the one that's gone away.

And I don't know what to do. There's an emptiness in my soul. The fear that I'll never get over her. The fear that I'll never move on.

What will I do then? It's already been three years. How long can you exist with a broken heart?

All I know is that I don't want to live like this any longer.

* * *

_A/N 2: I wrote this original draft literally months ago, like May, the entire story was supposed to begin and end with this one chapter. But I never put it up because I didn't like it. It was an earlier, rougher piece, but I just couldn't pull it together. I was never satisfied with it. But I kept going back to it because I thought it had some merit so I hated to scrap it completely. It wasn't until Kavi and I were picking new prompts last weekend that I pulled this out again and realized what was wrong with it. _

_I didn't want to write a story where Hotch didn't get the girl. _

_That was the story that I wrote, so some part of my brain did indeed want to write that story, but the rest of me just didn't want to put that out there. Which if you knew me is kind of funny. Because in real life I'm a bit jaded and generally make mental bets to myself when people get married calculating how long it's going to last (hey, I'm only a bad person if I say it out loud). But as far as the writing goes, that's clearly where the little bit of romantic in me comes out and I just hate to torture them. So, I picked a new prompt (the one for chapter 2) and suddenly a continuation of the story started spinning out in my mind. It has an ending now, one the shippers should be happy with._

_Though the title says "three acts" I might actually break it into 4 chapters. Two for each of their POVs. Either way though, it's done so I'll be posting daily on this one. _

_I'm not sure what else I'll get up though. I'm still hopeful on Girl but I've had a migraine recurrently for the latter half of the week and it's impeded the proofing of my more involved stories. This one was easier to clean up because of the narrative writing style. If I'm feeling better tomorrow I'll get back to the other ones again._

_And I owe like 17 people thank you notes, they're coming :)_

_Next: "**My Best Laid Plans**"  
_


	2. My Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note**: Emily's POV. If you pay close attention in the beginning here, you'll see that this narrative takes place six months after Hotch's ended.

* * *

**Prompt Set #10**

Show: October Road

Title Challenge: The Infidelity Tour

* * *

_**Emily POV**_

**My Best Laid Plans**

I fear I've made a terrible mistake.

I love my husband. I adore my daughter. I know I have a good life. I'm lucky.

Blessed.

But I feel like something's missing. That this isn't how it was supposed to be. That my husband, the good, kind, decent man who loves me, who fathered my child, wasn't supposed to be the one.

That Lucy's daddy should have been someone else.

The someone else that I danced with on my wedding day. The someone else I saw slip out immediately afterwards. His features etched with pain. That moment . . . seeing his face as he turned away, continues to be a dark memory on an otherwise happy day.

Six months after I got married, I got pregnant. I knew immediately that I had to leave the unit. I couldn't do that work anymore, not with that innocent new life growing inside of me.

But the day I gave him my resignation . . . the day I left him . . . that was the most painful day of my life.

I cried in his office. And he held me, and he told me that it was okay and that he understood.

But he didn't understand anything.

Because that was the first moment that I thought . . . this isn't right. This isn't how it should be. I shouldn't be leaving him.

It was too late though. I was having another man's baby. I was starting a family.

That was three and a half years ago.

After that day . . . that day I went away, I started manipulating situations so I could bump into him. If I saw that he was teaching at the Academy, I'd volunteer to cover a class too. The same with trainings and seminars. I'd scan the lists for his name so that I could see him again.

Just for a minute.

I always pretended like it was a surprise. And I could tell from the look on his face, from that first splash of recognition, that he was as happy to see me as I was to see him.

But that happiness . . . it didn't last.

It appeared to . . . we would pretend. But I could see the sadness fill his eyes, just as it always filled my heart.

Our time was too short.

And each time I walked away, I'd tell myself that's the last time. That it was wrong to hurt him that way. If it was just my heart that I'd been abusing that would be one thing. But since that day we danced . . . since that moment he turned away . . . I had known that Aaron Hotchner was in love with me.

If only he had told me before I was married, then perhaps things would have been different. In fact I'm sure that they would have been. But I hadn't realized how I myself felt until that day I had to leave the unit.

Leave him.

It was like cutting off a piece of myself. Something vital. Something I couldn't live without.

So I knew intimately the pain that I was inflicting on him each time we were brought together only to be immediately separated again.

And I would resolve over and over to stop torturing this man who continued to mean so much to me.

But then I'd start to forget the smell of his aftershave, the feel of his arms around me during our quick hugs hello, and then I'd think . . . okay, just one more time.

All that changed five months ago.

I saw him, accidentally on purpose, and this time on his face there was no moment of pure happiness before the pain started to encroach.

This time it was pain first . . . grief. And he quickly pasted on a sad smile as he asked me how I was. That's when I saw that my selfishness was killing him. It was time to let him go.

So I did.

The next time I saw he was teaching at the Academy, I signed up for a different day. The same with the lectures and the seminars. If he was going on Tuesday, I went on Wednesday.

I kept my distance. I let him go on with his life without me in it.

All the while the pain in my own heart began to slowly consume me. My wonderful husband, my good life, it wasn't enough anymore.

Not if I couldn't have him too.

The only joy I had left was time with my daughter. Even then though, I could still feel the sadness pushing against me.

My heart was bleeding.

But then yesterday . . . like an answered prayer . . . I saw him again. And it was completely through coincidences of fate.

I got a flat tire on the way home.

It was after sunset, and the shadows were almost completely surrounding me. The only light was from the streetlamp across the road and the occasional passing car.

As I was working the bolts, I saw flashing lights appear behind me and I put my hand on my weapon. Too many years working in the BAU had destroyed any trust I might have once had in a stranger who offered to help a lady fix her car.

I stood up and turned around, ready to firmly send the Good Samaritan on his way. And then I froze . . . my jaw agape.

It was him. Looking just as handsome and perfect as I remembered him in my dreams.

He looked as stunned to see me as I was to see him. But this time, his surprise wasn't immediately followed by misery.

No . . . this time . . . he flashed a dimple at me. And I grinned. Because I knew then . . . he missed me as much as I did him.

Our sad existence was all that we had. And I had taken that away.

All he whispered was "hey" as he pulled me into a hug. I looped my arms around his neck as he lifted me off the ground. And as he held me close to his chest I closed my eyes and turned my face into his neck. I committed everything about that moment to memory. The smell of his skin, the chill in the air, the feel of his hard body pressed against mine. I wanted to remember all of it.

It was going to have to sustain me for God only knew how long.

He held me well past the point of decorum . . . almost a minute. It was a great minute.

But then our moment was gone.

With a heavy sigh, he placed me back on the patch of grass by the side of the road. His eyes flicked over my face once before he turned to look at my car.

I stepped back, staring at him as he walked over and picked up the wrench from where I'd dropped it by the ruined tire.

He made quick work of my flat. And afterwards he went around to put the tools back in my trunk. As he looked in that gaping space I heard him tsking to himself that I really should have a patch kit and flares. And then he seemed to realize what he was implying and he slammed the trunk shut.

But the damage was done.

I was picturing that world where he was the one that looked after those things. That made sure that the brakes were checked and the oil was changed and I had tools in the trunk.

That he was the one that kept me and my daughter safe.

He walked over to say goodbye. I bit my lip as I stepped close to him, right into his space. I could feel the warmth of his body as well as when he was holding me five minutes earlier.

I stood there for a second too long, doing absolutely nothing but breathing him in. And then, with a tissue in hand, I reached up to wipe away a spot of grease from his face.

As he stared down at me I gently wiped the smudge from his cheek. Tears began to fill my eyes.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

When I went to step back, he caught my hand. I looked into his eyes and time seemed to stretch out before me. All of my options. All of my choices.

All of the years I had left.

After a minute . . . or maybe ten, I no longer could gauge time, his voice cracked as he whispered that he was sorry.

And then he let me go.

But I couldn't let him go. Not again. He turned to leave and the tears began to run down my face as I called out his name.

Aaron.

I had been calling him that . . . and only that . . . since the day I put in for a transfer.

He turned back and I launched myself at him as I cried out that I missed him. I missed him so much.

And then I kissed him.

It took only a moment before he was kissing me back. Desperately, passionately, his fingers in my hair, my body pressed to his, both of us pouring everything into that one moment before it was lost.

It was wonderful. It was what I had been missing for all of those years.

It was my mistake made right.

But then I suddenly realized what I was doing. I was married . . . I had a husband and a child at home waiting for me . . . and I was kissing another man.

Mortified at my own behavior, I pulled away, gasping for air. And then I stepped back and stared down at the pebbles on the gravel of the road.

My options once again began to stretch out before me.

Aaron reached for my hand and I took another step back, shaking my head as I turned and fled to my car. All the while I could hear him calling my name.

Emily.

Over and over again, it was breaking my heart. But I didn't look back. I just drove away.

I stopped in an empty parking lot further down the road. Through my tears I typed a text message to my husband that I had met my cousin for dinner and I wouldn't be home until late.

And then I filled up the gas tank and I drove. I drove for hours, all along the back roads of Virginia, finally returning to my home well after midnight.

I went in and watched my baby sleep in her small bed. And then I went to my room and watched my husband sleeping in our larger one. Then I turned and went back downstairs and into the kitchen. I picked up a red pen, and a yellow piece of paper, and I wrote a short note. I went back to my bedroom and left it taped to the alarm clock where I knew my husband would find it first thing in the morning. It said simply.

_We need to talk._

And then I went into the hall closet and got a pillow and a blanket before I went back downstairs to sleep on the couch.

That was last night.

Now I hear his footsteps on the stairs, he's calling my name, wondering where I am. For a moment I consider feigning sleep, putting off the inevitable. But I condemn my own cowardice as I sit up, pushing back the blanket as I swing my feet to the carpet. I rub my hand across my mouth, steeling my resolve.

Our eyes lock as he steps into the room.

Showtime.

* * *

_A/N 2: Arcadya "eeped" when they kissed (which, if I forgot to tell you hon, I chuckled :)). But, though I don't believe character wise either H or P would cheat, cheat (though if you're the injured party, clearly kissing would count as more than enough cheating to be personally devastating) she just lost control for a minute. And __**she**__ stopped it, was properly ashamed of her behavior, and left him before she did anything else stupid. Therefore I declare the act is not OOC :) _

_And actually I thought for someone as morally upright as Emily, the kiss, the fact that she had betrayed her vows, was that over the top something that she would have needed as a swift kick to make her realize she had to choose. Her feelings aren't going away, she's got another forty or so years on the planet, what is she going to do with her life? _

_I think I am going to break this into four chapters rather than my originally intended, three. Though the last two are a continuation of the same scene, I think they work better completely separate from one another. But I think we'll keep the same story title. I don't know why but A Love Story in FOUR Acts just doesn't have the same zip :) _

_Next up is Hotch again, and it'll probably go up Sunday night EST. I actually do anticipate getting a Girl chapter up early tomorrow. _

_Perhaps even later tonight. _

_Imananthropologist spoke for the group, I'm not sure if she holds any official Girl office, but she has given her blessing for me to put up a half assed posting, aka break the Halloween chapter in two so something goes up rather than nothing. All I really needed was one person to give me the go on that so I wouldn't feel so guilty. And the half a chapter that I do have all done is almost 5000 words so you aren't really getting as short changed as I would have feared._

_Little green button folks. Thanks :)  
_

_Next: "__**My New Resolve**__"_


	3. My New Resolve

**Author's Note**: I've been holding this until the site stopped spinning it's head around and spitting pea soup. It appears that the exorcism was completed so I figured I'd give posting another shot.

* * *

**Prompt Set #10**

Show: Everwood

Title Challenge: He Who Hesitates

* * *

_**Hotch's POV  
**_

**My New Resolve**

It's been three days since our kiss on the side of the road.

For those first twenty-four hours I was going insane with worry. I didn't know what to do. If I should call her, if I should make sure that she was okay.

But then I decided to give her some time. To let her figure out her feelings before I bombarded her with mine.

After all she was the one who was married.

But . . . she was also the one who had sobbed that she missed me. And she was also the one who initiated our kiss.

That wonderful kiss.

When she first grabbed me I was almost too stunned to react. What I wanted . . . what I needed, was finally right in front of me.

It was like a tourniquet on my bleeding heart.

And then I was clutching her, desperate to keep her with me. To make that moment last forever.

But suddenly she pulled away and I saw the shame on her face . . . and I remembered.

She was married. She had a family. We couldn't do what we were doing.

It was wrong.

But I couldn't bear to see her cry either. So I reached for her . . . and she stepped back.

Just out of reach.

My heart clenched when she did that, and I started to scream in my head.

No! Please don't do this! Please don't go away again!

Six months ago I had begun to believe that it would be easier to not see her anymore. That maybe my heart would begin to heal.

Then like a miracle . . . all of a sudden . . . she was gone. For months I didn't see her.

As the second month passed into the third . . . seven weeks was previously the longest I'd gone without running into Emily . . . it was almost a relief.

Almost.

I hoped maybe I'd begin to move on. But instead, that shimmer of relief in the distance, it morphed into a terrible fear. I became obsessed wondering why she'd vanished completely from my life.

Was she was okay? Had something happened? How could she have just disappeared?

I looked for her face everywhere. Hoping maybe I'd see her in the hall, or in the parking garage, or in the coffee shop. Even though I had no business at all with her unit, I almost sought her out in her office.

But I only wanted to see her for a second, just to make sure that she was all right.

I may have been miserable with her in my life, but my misery was tenfold without her.

You don't know what you've got until it's gone was a cliched life lesson that had been slammed into me over and over these past three and a half years.

And as we stood on the side of that road and I saw her slipping away into the darkness, I knew I couldn't go back to that misery again.

So I called out her name . . . but she ran from me. So I said it again and she moved further back. And then she got into her car and I began screaming . . . Emily . . . Emily, please come back.

But as I saw her marks of rubber on the road . . . I knew she had left me once more.

I picked up Jack yesterday. My son has been a comfort to me, a distraction. I'm immersing myself in his little boy problems.

Should he play Army men or dinosaurs? What book should we read before bed? Which submarine should we take into the bathtub?

Important things like that.

That's where we are now, in the bathroom. He's in the tub playing with his submarine . . . he chose the grey one . . . and I'm scrubbing his hair and behind his ears.

Today we went to the park and played catch. He kept missing the ball and he'd run and dive into the dirt. I told him it was okay. He didn't have to try so hard. But he looked at me like I was crazy. And then he said, "but daddy, how am I going to catch it if I don't chase it?"

My son is not yet six, but already he is wiser than me.

On the heels of everything that had happened this week, I resolved then and there to go after what I wanted. It's wrong to break up a family, to break up a happy life. But a happy woman doesn't hurl herself at you like she's drowning in quicksand and you're the only thing that can save her.

And as much as I hate the thought of her being unhappy . . . I see hope in that. And I allow myself to belief that maybe . . . just maybe . . . she could be mine.

So I'll give her a few more days to think. But next week I'm going to go to her office and ask her to take a walk with me. And then I'll tell her how I feel . . . tell her what I want . . . and ask her to decide.

Me or him.

One way or another, I'll finally know where I stand. But the bottom line is . . . someone has to put us out of our misery.

Just as I begin to pour the cup of water over Jack's head, I hear the bell.

My son's too young to stay in the bathtub by himself. Or perhaps he is old enough and I'm just overprotective.

Either way though, he's coming with me.

I quickly finish rinsing his hair before I pull him out of the bath. He's still dripping, blinking droplets of water from his lashes as I put him onto the bathmat. I smile as I see he still has his submarine. I gently take it from his hand as I wrap him up in a large fluffy green towel. Then I hoist him into my arms and turn towards the hall.

"Come on buddy, let's go see who's at the door."

* * *

_A/N 2: This was the extra chapter. Originally it went from the last one, to the concluding one. Three Acts. But I thought Hotch's perspective on the side of the road incident and his subsequent days added a little something to the story._

_Arcadya commented on my "obsession" with bath time. I guess that's like my obsession with Emily's pajamas ;) But, if you're at all familiar with little children, then you know, they get dirty! Bath time rolls around again and again. And for the big person supervising, your mind wanders. It's a good place for a retrospective :)_

_One bit of credit to another entity. The line "little boy problems" that was inspired by a line from Medium. Angelica Huston was the guest star and she was talking about her daughter when she was three and that she didn't have time for her "little girl problems". And I thought that was such a great line and it clearly stuck in my head because when I was writing this the little boy version came to me, but I knew it wasn't an original thought. Credit always to where it's due :)_

_Next: "__**My Great Unknown**__"_


	4. My Great Unknown

**Author's Note**: The concluding segment. All Emily, picks up right where the last one ended.

I went back and added some more details to it and we topped out at a hefty 2700 words! The longest one yet. And I'm kind of impressed at that. Given the size of the first round drafts I honestly thought this whole little story, in total, would top out at about 2000 words or so. It's almost three times that. But I do so ramble :)

**One little side note that I'll be putting on all my active stories to catch everyone**. In the midst of my technical difficulties the past few weeks, I lost a few reviews I was responding to. In that I already had the review response window open and the thing crashed or (in one instance) was rebooted by the Comcast man, and they all went bye bye. That was perhaps as many as a half dozen. So, if you took the time to write me a review and I never got back to you, that is most likely the reason. Because with the exception of one girl who I specifically had in my head, I couldn't figure out who got lost in the shuffle. So a general thank you :) and if you had a question about something that I hadn't answered please shoot me a note and I'll be happy to respond.

* * *

**Prompt Set #7**

Show: China Beach

Title Challenge: One Giant Leap

* * *

_**Emily's POV**_

**My Great Unknown**

I step off the elevator holding my child in my arms. In the car Lucy asked, "where we go Mumma?" and I told her we were going for a ride to see Mumma's friend.

Of all the labels that Aaron has ever . . . or will ever . . . hold in my life, I believe that one to be permanent.

He will always be my friend.

I take a deep breath and walk slowly down the hall to the door of his apartment. An apartment I have not been to in more than three years. I'm nervous. I should have called first.

Then I feel a pang of guilt . . . I should have called period.

It's been three days since our kiss and we've had no communication since. He doesn't know what I've done. Taken the life that I had, the life that I thought I wanted, that I thought made me happy . . . and thrown it away.

My husband, my sweet, understanding husband who never deserved this pain, his only response to my request for a divorce was, "I've been waiting for this day to come."

That was it. No surprise, no anger. Simply resignation and acceptance.

I would have felt better if he'd hated me.

For almost a minute I stand in front of Aaron's door. This is the choice I've made. This is the life that I want.

The one with him.

My daughter begins to fidget in my arms and I know that it's time. I ring the bell . . . and I wait.

I wait for so long that my spirits begin to fall as I start to think that he isn't home. And then the door whips open, startling me.

It's Saturday and he has his son with him. A little boy that I know will be six years old next month. As I'd seen from his pictures, he looks just like his father.

Aaron's shirt is wet and Jack is wrapped up in a towel so I can see that I've interrupted bath time.

As Aaron sees me standing there with my daughter, and the small duffel bag on my shoulder, his eyes brighten in a way that I've never seen before.

We stare at each other for a moment, each with a child on our hip. Then I smile nervously at him and a slow grin spreads across his face.

Relief floods my heart . . . it's okay. It's all going to be okay now.

I tip my head down, "this is Lucy."

He smiles at my daughter, "hi Lucy."

She grins back at him.

Usually she hides her face in my neck when strangers speak to her. Perhaps she smiled because he also has a small child. Or perhaps she smiled just because she likes him.

I hope it's the latter.

He looks back at me and then nods to his own child, "this is Jack."

My eyes crinkle, "hi Jack."

His son very politely responds, "hello ma'am," and then he flashes the same dimple at my Lucy that his father did to me three days before.

She giggles in delight and reaches over to touch his face. And to my amusement . . . he lets her.

Aaron moves back, holding the door open for us. I step over the threshold and into his apartment.

My heart warms as I see the slight clutter of a home with a small child.

Toys on the floor, little shoes not put where they're supposed to be. A plastic Scooby Doo bowl on the table which holds the remnants of a dinner of macaroni and cheese.

It's all familiar, and I know then that we could be happy here.

Aaron looks down at me, "make yourself comfortable, we'll be right back." He and his son disappear down the hall and into one of the side rooms. My daughter and I stand in the middle of the living room looking at their things.

It's nice, cozy. And it's obvious that there are no women living here. That hadn't occurred to me before . . . just because he missed me didn't mean that he hadn't moved on. That he hadn't tried to be happy with someone else just as I had.

That would have been a bitter irony if I'd shown up here today and a woman had answered the door.

I don't think my heart could have taken that. But fortunately it's clear that it's just him and his son.

As I stand there, breathing slowly in and out, I know that I am welcome, that I am wanted. But still, I feel shy, uncertain.

Is it possible that it truly could be this simple?

That I could just walk through that door and begin a new life.

My daughter is too young to understand what's going on. To understand that I have taken her from her father and that we won't be going back. And for her innocence I am more grateful than I can say. Though I feel guilt for separating Lucy from her other parent, for hurting him this way, I don't feel regret. Because I'm certain that if I had stayed with him any longer that I would have grown to hate him.

To resent him for not being the man that I wanted him to be.

Now we can part with pain but no bitterness. He said he knew on our wedding day, when he saw Aaron and I dancing, that his time with me had an expiration date. But still he stayed because he loved me and he thought maybe he could make me happy.

And I do love him. When someone adores you that much, to sacrifice his own sense of self in the hope of simply making you happy, how can you not feel something for that person in return? But he deserves so much better than what I was able to give him. My feelings for Aaron have always dwarfed any affection I've had for my husband.

But he was the man who he gave me my Lucy so I can't truly regret our time together.

I see Aaron and Jack coming back down the hall. Jack's now dressed in his footed pajamas. My eyes crinkle as I see that they have little police cars on them. And then his son races past me to the corner of the living room.

He begins to pull out his videos.

As he takes one in his hand . . . I see its Shrek . . . he looks at it, and then he looks at my daughter and shakes his head. He turns back to pull out another movie, and then nods his approval to himself before he hands it to his father.

"This one Daddy."

I see that he has pulled out a movie that is clearly too young for him now. And tears spring to my eyes as realize that he picked it for my daughter.

This little boy has his father's kind heart.

Aaron puts in the video and then turns to me with a little smile as he gestures to Lucy, "it's okay Emily, you can put her down."

I look at him and then I look at her, big brown eyes sparkling as she watches his son from a few feet away.

My daughter is only two, but I'm pretty sure that she's in love with the boy that flashed the dimple at her.

I know the feeling.

And I realize Aaron's right. It is okay. So I place her on the ground and she runs over to sit down on the carpet next to her new friend.

As the familiar music of Bananas in Pajamas fills the room, Aaron takes the bag off of my shoulder and puts it behind the couch. Then his hand is on my back as he guides me from the room.

We go down the same hall he just returned from, this time entering a different door than he and Jack had entered. I see that it's his bedroom, but I know that he's just brought me here for privacy.

If you have small children and you want a moment alone, then you will need a door.

He shuts the precious door behind us and turns to me, nervously biting his lip. And then he reaches over and picks up my hand, running his thumb over the slight discoloration where my wedding rings once lived.

I hadn't taken them off once in three years. And I cried this afternoon when I put them in an envelope and left them on the kitchen table.

Beyond Aaron's few words in the living room, we've said nothing to one another besides the introduction of our children.

That was a lot. But there's so much more to say. So much more to tell him.

And I don't know where to begin.

The seconds tick away in silence as he holds my hand in his, running his thumb back and forth over that white circle. It takes me only a moment of indecision before I take two steps forward and wrap my arms around his waist.

I had thrown away everything for him, the least I was going to get in return was a hug.

His arms encircle me, and he tips his head down to rest against mine.

Of all the hugs he's given me over the past three and a half years, this was the best one.

Fortunately my movement broke not only our stance, but our silence as well, and he whispers in my ear.

"I wouldn't have lasted much longer."

Tears burn my eyes as I shake my head, my cheek brushing against his chest.

"Me either."

He kisses the top of my head and I sniffle into his t-shirt, "could we stay with you until I find a place?"

I know that the house is still my home, but I don't belong there anymore. We're seeing the lawyers on Monday, and I've been sleeping on the couch for the last three days. I couldn't find the courage to knock on Aaron's door until the weekend, when I was sure that he would be home.

There's a moment of silence, and I'm afraid I've overstepped, but then I hear his voice come back choked with emotion, "you guys can stay with me forever," he pulls me tighter to his chest, "please don't leave me again Emily."

He kisses the top of my head again and the tears begin to run down my face. They are both happy and sad. Tears for the time lost, but also for all the years now ahead.

And then we hear a knock at the door, and a little voice saying tentatively, "daddy, the movie's stuck," and I smile.

Hotch leans back and gives me a sheepish grin. But no apology is needed.

This is my life too.

He projects his voice towards the door, "coming buddy," and then he wipes the tears from my face before he leans down and gives me a quick kiss. When he pulls back I reach up to wipe the lipstick from his mouth.

This is all new, and it would be best if our children didn't see us interacting like this right away.

He takes my hand and opens the door. We look down to see Jack and Lucy standing there. Lucy's lower lip is sticking out in a little pout as she says sadly.

"Bananas went bye bye."

Aaron lets go of my hand and stoops down to her level. He reaches over to pick up her little fingers as he says sympathetically, "it's okay sweetheart, I'll get the bananas back for you."

Jack runs back to the living room as Aaron picks up my daughter, asking if she'd like some juice. She looks over at me, and at my nod she gives him a shy smile. When I see the corner of his mouth go up in response, I am suddenly filled with love for both of them.

It was a fear I hadn't voiced to myself. What if they didn't take to one another? What if my heart was twisted between them? Thankfully, for once my fears were unfounded.

With Lucy on his hip, Aaron reaches out and takes my hand again.

Suddenly I feel complete. Everything is right now. _This_ is my family. This is exactly what I wanted. This world.

This life.

I let him lead me down to the kitchen where he hands me a juice box from the fridge. And then we go to the living room where he walks me to the couch. And with my daughter still in his arms, Aaron leans down to the cabinet and takes the movie from the machine. He blows on it once before asking Lucy to do the same. She giggles at his request and then the two of them together once more huff on the shiny disk before he wipes it on his t-shirt.

Once he's sure it's clean, Aaron looks at Lucy and a dimple appears by his mouth right before he blows a puff of air in her face. Her eyes shut as her bangs are ruffled. And then she opens her lids once more, clearly enthralled with him as she claps and giggles.

"Do again!"

Aaron huffs another quick puff of air in her direction, and at her grin he bites his lip as he looks at me over her shoulder.

I know that little smile on his face. He once had that just for me. Back then I didn't know what it meant, but now I do.

He adores her.

Love at first sight. It was more than I could have hoped for.

He leans back down and lets her help him put the movie in. And a moment later, when the bananas once more appear on the screen, she again laughs and claps her hands.

Life is so much simpler when you're two. It's easy to be happy.

This time when Aaron sees Lucy's obvious delight in such a small thing, the smile he gives her is broad and true.

I remember then that this is why we have children. They bring us joy.

Aaron gives Lucy a kiss on the forehead as he tells her proudly, "you did a good job helping sweetheart."

She smiles at him and touches his face as she did his son's a short while ago.

Tears sting my eyes.

I know that my child already has a daddy, but from this day on she'll be spending more time with the man holding her than she will be with the man who fathered her. That is a sad fact of divorce and custody. The mother usually gets primary care and the father gets visitation. Not that I would give up my child to anyone, but in Aaron's case I saw the pain that brought him and it saddens me to bring such upset to my own family.

But all things considered, given the limitations on the time that Lucy will have with my soon to be ex, I am simply grateful that my suppositions were correct.

Aaron is a good dad.

So even if he couldn't be Lucy's real daddy, he will make an excellent surrogate father for my child.

He walks back over to the couch and passes my daughter to me. I hand her the juice box as he sits down next to us. Only a second passes before he hesitantly slips my free hand into his.

Our fingers slowly curl together. We are allowed to do this now.

It's an adjustment for both of us.

I look to our children, laughing as they watch the giant bananas on the television. And then I look down to see my hand nestled in his.

A warm glow spreads out from the center of my chest, filling me as it runs through my body and right to the tips of my fingers and my toes.

Happiness.

For the first time I'm truly, completely, deliriously . . . happy.

My head tips over to Aaron's shoulder and I whisper in his ear, "I love you."

His fingers tighten around mine as he whispers back, "I love you too."

With a smile I cuddle into his side, my daughter sitting between us. I know now that it's never too late to change your path. It's never too late to find your soul mate.

After all . . . I move our joined hands to my lap . . . I found mine.

* * *

_A/N 2: And . . . we're done. Somebody - you know who you are ;) - commented that it was different with Emily having her own child to consider. Usually it's just Hotch in that boat. I kind of enjoyed that element. It made them more "compatible." You know, it's no longer tough single girl Emily adjusting to being around Jack._ _She's just a mom and he's just a dad and they live in the same world and now they're trying to blend a new family together._

_I may have said this before but I liked writing this one quite a bit. The style is very freeing. There's no pressure to keep the picture balanced, it's all about being that one person and just feeling what they feel in that moment. And given I did sadness and longing and happiness in this one, I'm thinking it might be really interesting to do one that's focused on different emotions like fear and terror. Which segue ways nicely into my next announcement._

_**The TV Challenge**__: I put up our new bonus today, Halloween story! This should be really fun, there are a ton of prompts so even if you don't write H/P, please check it out and maybe you'll see something that'll give you an idea. And starting in October I'll be putting up my next full horror one. Sadly not the sequel yet to The Snake Pit, something else. I've already started it and I'm hoping to be done before I post a word. But I'm definitely going to try and do a horror story all in this first person style too. That could be very upsetting to read. At least one can only hope :)_

_Girl update perhaps later tonight, most likely later tomorrow. Sunday is free museum day so I'll be off checking out mummies for a good portion of the daylight hours. _

_Feedback would be lovely :)_


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